


Children of Ishvala

by squid-ears (squidears)



Series: Ishvalan AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Ishvalan AU, Ishvalan!Al, Ishvalan!Ed, Ishvalan!Trisha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidears/pseuds/squid-ears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward and Alphonse Elric are Ishvalan, but raised Amestrian by a mother who left behind Ishval and everything that went with it to be with Hohenheim. This affects how they are viewed by others in ways both expected and unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! Just a warning in advance-- I take a looong time to get things to a point I consider publishable, so there may be big time gaps between chapter postings. This won't follow chapter-for-chapter, although I'm not sure yet whether I should do a complete (abbreviated-ish and possibly rearranged) retelling of the entire story or just a collection of scenes I personally deem important. If you have a preference, review and tell me! If you don't, review anyway!

When Colonel Roy Mustang had been sent to seek out a pair of accomplished alchemists called the Elric brothers in the little Eastern town of Risembool, he had expected to find two adult Amestrian men in a pub or town hall or something, fixing people’s radios and broken chairs and such.

He hadn’t expected to come across a basement covered with blood and a little Ishvalan boy missing an arm and a leg.

He stood in the doorway of the little house and stared; all-too-recent memories of children just like this boy, with dull eyes and limbs blown off by alchemy, _his_ alchemy, came to the surface unbidden, and he had to fight not to sink into those memories again. But despite the boy’s skin, hair, and eyes, he was not in Ishval, and the wounds were heavily bandaged, meaning the injuries had been recent. And looking at the horror show that was their basement, those injuries could only be from one thing-- attempting human transmutation.

“What did you do?” Roy hissed, striding closer to the boy and the suit of armor attending him. The boy didn’t move or even blink, apparently catatonic; however, the armored man cringed away and pulled the wheelchair back slightly, seemingly terrified even though he had at least a foot on Roy. The Colonel grabbed the young boy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up out of his seat slightly and eliciting a shocked cry from the suit of armor. He’d killed so many Ishvalan children, but this was the first one he’d shown real physical aggression towards, Roy realized dimly. “We saw your basement. We know what you did. You committed the taboo, didn’t you?! Didn’t you?!!”

The boy seemed to hear this, cringing away and looking even more broken and ashamed of himself-- a feat Roy didn’t think possible.

“We’re sorry,” the armored man cried with a voice that sounded much too young for his body, grabbing the Colonel’s arm with a shaking, clattering hand. “P-Please, we’re sorry… We just… We j-just wanted… We’re sorry,” he said, sounding very close to tears as he ducked his head. “W-We just w-wanted to see our mother again…”

Roy’s eyes suddenly softened, the man releasing his grip on the boy’s collar and gently dropping him back into the wheelchair. The man in armor was not a man, he now realized; he was a boy as well. The second Elric brother.

* * *

 

“I was under the impression that Ishvalans did not do alchemy,” Mustang said, steepling his hands as he leaned his elbows on the table in front of him. Seated at the head of the table was the owner of the house and the Elric brothers’ legal guardian, Pinako Rockbell; across from him sat the two boys Roy now knew as Edward and Alphonse Elric. “I thought it was seen as desecrating Ishvala’s creations.”

“Although their mother was Ishvalan, these boys were raised Amestrian,” Pinako said solemnly, tapping her pipe against the edge of its ashtray. “Their mother left Ishval to marry an Amestrian man her family didn’t approve of and never looked back.” Edward visibly stiffened when his parents were mentioned; it was one of the biggest reactions Roy had seen from the kid today. “Their mother encouraged their alchemy, actually.” Silence hung in the air after this statement, the tension almost palpable.

“And rightfully. They are extremely gifted,” Roy said calmly, trying his hardest to ignore the tense atmosphere. Although what they had done was horrifying, they had done it with only good intentions, and that was more than Roy could say for himself. “Edward especially. To not only be able to plan a human transmutation at such a young age, but to be able to bind a soul to a suit of armor, even while gravely injured, shows an incredible amount of skill. If he wanted to be a State Alchemist, I have no doubt he would pass the examination with flying colors.”

“State Alchemist?! He’s just a boy, and a terribly injured one at that! And why in the world do you think he’d want to serve the same military that killed his people and devastated this town?!” Pinako snapped, clenching a fist. “Recruiting an Ishvalan boy missing two limbs… the military must be very desperate!”

“I’m not recruiting him, I’m simply offering him an opportunity,” Mustang replied calmly, black eyes boring into the boy’s red ones. There were odd flecks of gold in there, he noted absentmindedly. “If he became a State Alchemist, he would have access to all of our research facilities and libraries that civilians can’t access. Our resources would most definitely make finding a way to restore their bodies much easier. In fact, it could be practically impossible without it.” Roy paused for a moment, glancing at the boy’s eyes again; just as he’d hoped, there was a fire in them now, a determination that had been completely absent before getting their bodies back was mentioned. “Just something to consider.”

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Mustang said, standing up and brushing a few dog hairs from Den off of his uniform. “If you ever wish to contact me for any reason, just ask for Colonel Roy Mustang of Eastern Command. I hope to see you again, Edward.”

He then left with the blonde woman, and just like that, Ed was done with wallowing in misery and ready to find a way to get his brother back into his normal body as soon as possible-- and if that way involved being a State Alchemist, so be it.

 


	2. Certification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to attack the Fuhrer, even if you never go through on it, is even more frowned upon when you're of Ishvalan descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait between chapters, guys! This fic isn't going to be updated a lot or often, as I'm in college and don't really have the time, energy, or inspiration for anything aside from the sporadic short look into how events in canon would differ if Ed was Ishvalan. This one is really short because the examination scene in FMA went pretty quickly, although if the Fuhrer wasn't so chill/intent on getting a sacrifice under his control Ed would be in a lot more trouble. Or potentially shot in the head.

Edward Elric walked into the practical examination room with a swagger, ignoring the gaping maws and muttering his entrance had caused.

“An Ishvalan applicant? And a minor? Sir, is this… Is this allowed?” A proctor nervously gripping a clipboard said, glancing over at a mustachioed man with an eyepatch. He didn’t look like much to Ed, but everyone was treating him like a high-ranking official; he would be the target for his demonstration, the boy decided.

“The Ishvalan War of Extermination is over, and Executive Order 3066 no longer applies. And he passed the written exam with flying colors, did he not? His scores outranked those of many we ended up taking as State Alchemists. I see no reason to deny him the opportunity to serve his country. As long as he passes this practical, that is,” the man replied with a gruff chuckle. “Now show us what you can do, boy, eh?”

The boy in question shrugged off his long, red coat to keep it from hindering his mobility, rolling and stretching his automail arm. Upon seeing the shiny appendage, he heard some people begin muttering.

“...Y-You have automail?” Someone asked, looking remarkably pale; it was obvious they thought he’d gotten it in Ishval and felt guilty about it.

“Not from Ishval, don’t worry. I grew up in a farming village in the East. Got into an accident with some farming equipment a few years back.” The lie rolled off his tongue after telling it hundreds of times. Ed gave a cocky grin and clapped his hands, transmuting a spear out of the ground without even transmuting a circle; fevered whispers echoed through the room, only to escalate into shouts as the boy rushed forward to thrust his weapon towards the eyepatch man’s throat. Several soldier immediately drew their guns and pointed them at Edward’s head, the only thing stopping them being the single gloved hand the man with the eyepatch was holding up. Ed picked out a few particularly loud, outraged voices from the crowd watching the spectacle.

“That damn Ishvalan tried to kill the Fuhrer!”

“Shoot it!”

“Kill him off like the rest of them!”

Although the boy wanted nothing more than to find the bastards who were shouting such things about him and promptly eviscerate them, he focused on the issue at hand; apparently, he had severely underestimated just how important the official supervising his exam was. “Letting a high-ranking official attend something like this unguarded seems like a dangerous oversight. You guys should fix that. I could be anyone, you know? You’re lucky I’m not some revenge-driven psycho,” Edward said smoothly, slowly and carefully withdrawing the spear— only for the front half of it to clatter to the ground, sliced in half by some force he hadn’t noticed. As he was gawking at the damage, the Fuhrer spoke up.

“I appreciate your concern, but I wouldn’t have gotten to be Fuhrer if I couldn’t defend myself,” he said simply, motioning for the soldiers to lower their weapons. “Your bravery and nerve is commendable, son, and your alchemy skills are top notch as well, of course. We need more people like you in our ranks.”

“Glad to be of service, sir,” he said with a wry grin, saluting the man with his automail arm.


End file.
